


What hurts the most

by otakuashels



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Acceptance, America, Declarations Of Love, England - Freeform, Love, M/M, Memories, Remorse, Song Lyrics, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otakuashels/pseuds/otakuashels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His little brother, oh how he loved him, this little boy was his reason to continue fighting, the reason that he didn't let the pirate part of him take over control, that the ruthlessness of his ever growing country didn't swallow him whole. This boy, was the love of his life and he hoped that America held even a sliver of such feelings for him as well. Happy-one shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	What hurts the most

**Author's Note:**

> Song fic:  
> Song/Lyrics: What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts   
> Disclaimer: All song lyrics belong to Rascal Flatts and their partners

I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house  
That don't bother me  
I can take a few tears now and then and just let 'em out  
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while  
Even though goin' on with you gone still upsets me  
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay  
But that's not what gets me

Emerald eyes snapped open as unusually loud thunder screeched through the house. "Bloody hell" the English nation muttered raking his hand through unruly blonde hair. A streak of lightning sent a mixture of light and shadows to build the room. A quick insight revealed a four poster bed sitting adjacent an antique vanity of wood. He couldn't help but jump once more at another clap of thunder that demanded his attention. "This is bloody annoying, so loud tonight" folding the blankets back from his body his feet sliding into properly placed slippers. Lifting a pre-folded robe from the foot of the bed and proceeded across mahogany floor boards into a carpeted hall. "A cup of tea should calm the night again" he said out loud, voice echoing off the walls. The only sound to accompany his voice was a mixture of the shuffling of his slippers against the carpet and the raging storm. Gripping the railing he headed down the stairs ignoring the ache that threatened to settle in his heart. It was after eight pm and before five am which meant all the help in his home, the maids, butlers, guards and all other staff that occupied his house during normal waking hours had returned to their perspective homes for the evening, all shifts being over. Yet even with all the staff there, more often than not the house felt empty, it had been a long time since the house hadn't been empty.

It had been a long time since laughter had filled the halls. Toys, discarded clothes and muddy footprints used to decorate the hall on many occasion. Yet it had been a very long time since that had occurred. Mechanically he entered the kitchen grabbing the kettle and plugging it in. With habit nimble fingers pulled loose leaf tea and a clean porcelain cup from the cabinet and began to mix the tea. Inhaling the smell he was thankful for the calming familiarity. He loved the rain, the large amounts being one of the world wide known occurrences of his country. The click of the kettle signified the water was heated, lifting it from the stand he poured the steaming liquid into the cup and placed it back down. Leaning back against the sink the rim pressed firm into his lower back. Blowing lightly at the steaming drink his attention was focused upon the sheets of water pouring down relentlessly upon his garden through the large window in his sitting room. Flashes of lightning lit up the heavy Victorian furniture that was placed strategically about the room. Leaning off the counter he entered wordlessly into the hall once more only to stop in front of door that was shut tight. Wiggling the handle he pushed his shoulder against the door leaning his weight on it. The door protested as it stuck in the frame, heavy with misuse. "Bloody hell" the door finally gave way and he all but stumbled into the room. It was difficult to get into the room, however once inside the room it was difficult to stay inside. A room full of memories, some of joy, pain, success and many full of heartbreak. "Don't know what I'm thinking, this is a terrible time for me to be in here" his eyes fell upon rows of glass cases.

Despite his arguments and denial with France he was rather sentimental, this room was strong proof that he was indeed riddled with sentimental. Emerald eyes fell upon the first case next to the door, a small bow and quiver, so small that it could only be used efficiently by a child. It was his weapon of choice when he had been called Britannia. He hadn't gifted that name to himself, it was something that Italy's grandfather, and the Roman Empire had given him. Case by case his past was put on display. "That" eyes fell upon a red uniform stationed upon a headless mannequin, above on display sat a gun. One that instead of shoot had stabbed another with its bayonet. It was kept in pristine condition, cased in bullet proof thick glass.

"It's raining, just like that night" an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia welled up inside of his chest. "I'm the only one here, no reason to feel crowded" he breathed heavily turning away from the case. "Uh!?" he gasped as a pounding startled him. It was coming from the front door, the heavy pounding started again, signifying that someone was knocking, demanding his attention. Eyes flying to clock stationed above doorway "Bloody hell. Who could it be at this time of the morning? It is 12:30am in the bloody fucking morning. Rushing from the room, tea in hand he shut the door behind him hard "Oh I'm coming! I am coming!" he shouted reaching the door as the pounding persisted "Honestly! Patience is a virtue you know-"he pulled the door open with a scowl "I swear if it's you, you bloody frog I'll- eh America?" in front of him stood a sopping wet blond with a goofy grin.

"Yo dude! So show me that British hospitality ad lend me a hand" the boys smile turned sheepish "I totally spaced on making reservations and all the hotels are booked and with the meeting tomorrow I really need a place to crash" he laughed.

"You insufferable git" he breathed yet stepped aside and let the boy enter his house.

"Dude thanks!" he laughed and trudged forward into the hall yet stopped looking over his shoulder "I really hope that I didn't wake you" he smiled and England merely closed the door looking after the blond. "So dude I know where the guest room is Ill just show myself in. Night Iggy!"

"It's Arthur!" he snapped back at him half-heartedly following the blonde with his eyes down the hall. "Take off your bloody shoes you are tracking mud in the hallway!" he locked the door and headed down the hall. The American had left muddy foot prints in the hall and as he passed the guest room he peered through the halfway closed door. The younger nation had spread his suitcase all over the room in a matter of seconds. A mixture of clothes, comics and video games were spread across the guest room.

"Twat" he muttered heading for his room "Spreading, toys, clothes and mud all over my clean house" he sighed stretching with a yawn, it was then he noticed that while the rain continued on the thunder and lightning had come to an end. "Ah, yes"

Emerald eyes fluttered open as sunlight crawled across plush carpet of antique design, scaling satin sheets and curling upon the bed top. Blonde hair tousled from pillowed sleep was brushed out of the eyes as the owner sat up stretching slender arm muscles. The popping of a back sounded sharply in the still morning air as the individual arched with a yawn... The house was quiet, only the most minor of noises was made from the handful of servants that handled the pristine establishment. Outside was much louder as icy rain water from the previous night's storm fell from tree tops, gutters and other sorts of high places. The songs of birds met the air as the man left the comfort of his bed, pulled apart window coverings of dark velvet green and pushed out the spotless class windows.

"Good morning. No world meeting today" he smiled at the various birds that made the tree in front of him their current home. A plain yet elegantly decorated chair of beige coloring was situated to the right of the window ledge. Draped neatly over the back was a night robe of deep burgundy. One thing arm entered the thick plush sleeves followed by the other. Nimble fingers of white tied the robe shut at a narrow waist as a knock sounded upon the heavy door of oak across the room. "Come in, I'm decent" he called and the door opened well on oiled hinges to reveal a female of no important features standing in the doorway.

"Good morning Mr. Kirkland. I hope that you slept well"

"Yes, I did thank you Ann"

"I've come to tell you that your tea is ready":

"Perfect. Let me dress and I shall take it in my study" he made a point of heading to the large wardrobe on the opposite wall.

"Of course. Mr. Kirkland" with a bow from a waist cloaked in standard uniform she left the room shutting the door with care.

"Ah, now for the day" with two hands and a pull towards the chest the blonde opened the apparatus and looked at the man clothes stationed inside, ironed, pressed and ready for wear at a moment's notice. The most common attire hung nearest, yet today with a small grunt he pushed aside the clothes and pulled a hanger from the back that's material was covered in suit bag. Turning and crossing the room he laid the clothing sack upon the bed to pull the zipper open. With precise movement's he pulled out the clothing. Dark jeans of blue ascended along almost feminine legs to button just above the hips. A white long sleeve shirt was immediately pulled over blonde hair and tucked into the nicely fitted waist band, buttoned with precise movements. A quiet beep resounded through the room causing the stiff backed male to cross the room as he dressed in a soft green button up shirt. He lifted the small cellular device from a small table by the window, the phone clicked as he flipped it open and clicked.

A text message from his older brother opened on the small screen, alerting him that the favor Scotland had promised him was in town. "I know that you bumbling fool, I am not absentminded" he responded quickly with a much nicer comment and shut the silver electronic before sliding it into his back pocket. Heading from the room he walked down the hallway towards a double door room. Inside the beige painted room sat a silver cart with a full tea set sitting and waiting for him. The wall was lined with tall imposing bookcases of dark mahogany even they were lined with age. Taking a cup and he lifted it to his lips inhaling deeply, sigh of satisfaction sliding past his lips. Looking at the phone he clicked through it finding the to-do list that had been programmed in for the day. Putting the cup down he headed out of the room and for the front door, nodding his thanks to the maid that handed him his coat and car keys. Sliding his arms into the sleeves he zipped up pulling the sunglasses from his pockets his strutted down the driveway to where his white Aero Coupe parked.

Unlocking the door he slid into the driver's seat backing out of the driveway. Turning the music to a moderate level he tapped the steering wheel humming to himself as the hills the deep green grass of his land rushed by him slowly turning him into houses speckled here and there slowly turning into neighbors and blending into the city of London. Today was a beautiful day; everything was going to be okay, good.

Pressing on the break gently he slowed to a stop as the traffic around him did the same. Peering to the side as he waited for the light to change his eyes roved over the stores along the street. Breathing in deeply he frowned as he saw all the paraphernalia in the store windows, American paraphernalia. It was all over the place inside of his country, his people were obsessed with Americans, America. Not that he could blame them, to an extent he had a mild obsession with the country as well. Turning his attention forward he pressed on the gas, but not today, today he was okay. Especially today, he chuckled to himself, what America would think if he knew that he was getting, oh that did American's call them, oh yes a Harley. That stuffy old England was getting a motorcycle.

What hurts the most was being so close  
And havin' so much to say  
And watchin' you walk away  
And never knowin' what could've been  
And not seein' that lovin' you  
Is what I was trying to do

"Hey Britain!" The tall yet young nation of blonde shouted out against the pouring rain. How perfect, how wickedly cruel Mother Nature was being on a day like this. She even had the weather to match the turmoil in this British breast. Sky blue, bright, fierce with determination were the eyes he stared into, so different from the heavy storming blue above them. The landscape about them torn to pieces, filled with the bodies of dead and dying, groans squashed beneath the pelting rain. He heard the boy, yes oh did he hear him, but that didn't mean that he wanted to. And oh did he hate that gun, that barrel that obscured and denied him a complete view of the boy he wanted. To reach out and hold him, protect him from the storm as he had oh so many years ago. He shifted in distaste, boots sinking into sticky mud, it seemed as if even the physical land itself was trying to knock him down. Shock vibrated through his core as the golden blonde spat out "All I want is my freedom! I am no longer a child nor your little brother! From now on, consider me...INDEPENDENT!" Yanking his feet from their sticky imprisonment and dashed forward. His voice was angry, face contorted in displeasure, despair. Heart crying out in protest as he rushed the younger country, he ignored the clinging of his red suit on his skin as if it too was protesting his assault against the younger one. Bayonet met wood and as a single gun flew into the air falling with a thud against the swollen ground. Yet neither nation even spared a glance at the simple object. Cerulean eyes shown bright with shock and disbelief as if he could not believe what his former and now foreign caretaker had just done. As if he never really expected that he would one day have to stare down the barrel of a gun that England himself would be holding. The bright once young innocent eyes hardened with resolve, a face once broken into a seemingly endless grin was now tight with a grim frown. He said nothing as he stared back into pools of Emerald that quaked with fury and hurt. Panting wildly with heaving shoulders, trembling lips and twitchy fingers the older nation glared back at him.

"I won't allow it!" England felt the scream rip from his throat his mind crying in protest, begging him to wall up those words. Eyes burning with unshed tears, shoulders shaking with anger mixed a cup of grief decorated with disbelief. "You idiot! Why can't you follow anything through to the end!" he yelled.

"No!" thunder cracked in the sky causing the blond nation to bolt upright in bed. He quickly looked towards the window, the sound that had ended the nightmare. He felt hot, sticky, covered in sweat. Except for his cheeks, his cheeks were cold, any sweat there had been washed away by tears that mimicked the salty ocean that surrounded his nation. Slumping backwards his head dropped against his head board with a small thud of protest. "This terrible, terrible memory continues to plague me" he muttered "Ehhh!" for the second time that night he jumped yet this time it was due to the loud buzzing from his bed side table. Emerald flickered over to watch his small, silver phone vibrate again flashing. It signaled that someone had sent him a text message. "Who the bloody hell is messaging me at" he quickly glanced at his alarm clock anger flaring blood into his cheeks "3 o'clock in the bloody morning!" stretching he yanked the device off the table and flicked it open "I swear if it's that bloody frog-"silence fell over the large single body occupied room as he opened the message and read the contents. Quick and a tad furious clicking sounded before he snapped his phone shut and placed it back down on the table. Dropping back into the feathered pillows about him a sigh of content escaped his lungs as he pulled his silk blankets up over his chest once more. A smile threatened to turn up his lips as he shut his eyes, the sand man coming to complete his job for the early morning, the phone went off again, loud, obnoxious. "Ah yes, it's 10am in America"

It's hard to deal with the pain of losin' you everywhere I go  
But I'm doing it  
It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone  
Still harder gettin' up, gettin' dressed, livin' with this regret  
But I know if I could do it over  
I would trade, give away all the words that I saved in my heart  
That I left unspoken

Another bloody long meeting, America was going to spit nonsense, Germany was going to yell and take control, and Russia was going to harass the poor Baltics and proceed to run from his mentally dysfunctional sister. China was certainly going to yell about the immaturity of western nations and try to get Japan to agree with him who in return in was going to fidget, not sure whether to agree with his elder as he does not want to upset America. England sighed, and of course he would shoot down any idea that comes out of the Americans mouth and fight with the bloody frog. The tousle haired nation leaned back in his straight backed chair a small sigh fluttering past his lips as he crossed his arms. Maybe a refreshment before this starts, even a simple distraction would be heavens bliss at such a meeting. Leaning forward he gripped the arms of his plain chair to push himself up when a cup was suddenly placed down in front of him. He stared at the recyclable beverage container that sat steaming innocently in front of him. The cheap red colored Styrofoam, he was pretty sure it was a type of Styrofoam except that Styrofoam was not recyclable, was stark contrast to the heavy, expensive deep mahogany of the table.

Leaning back he stared quickly at the cup, over its lip lay a string attached to a miniature piece of reinforced paper that read Earl Gray. Looking quickly to the right at boisterous laughter as America walked away from his chair clutching a cup of only what could be coffee as he loudly told some story to Japan. The pair's cups matched, identical, from the same beverage cart that an elderly woman attended to down the hall. Reaching forward he allowed long fingers to wrap around the cup as it radiated warmth, it was a relief really. They kept the long tabled room chill, due to the fact that all of us were wearing suits, yet on some days such as today the thermostat had been turned down too low and was a discomfort. Even though the white curtains that covered the windows that stretched from ceiling to floor and went all around the room were pulled back to allow copious amounts of sunlight, they couldn't compete with the state of the art air conditioning. With a look upwards once more led him to see America surrounded by Japan, China, Lithuania, Poland and a handful of others as he laughed loudly, he seemed to be telling yet another story.

Emerald clashed with Cerulean as America looked at England with purpose. Startled the English men looked away quickly, only to land on France who was flirting profusely with poor Canada. The French nation was ever more creeping into the personal space of the rather neutral country whose stuttering became even more obvious as he turned an almost alarming shade of red. He wasn't really sure how the Canadian had such patience with the frog as the French man swirled a section of the Canadians hair about his finger. However if the gossip was to be true, not that he gossiped no. That was not the gentlemanly thing to do. However if it were to be true then the Canadian and the French men had much more than just a friendship going on. Tearing his eyes away from the inappropriate display of affection he tossed a look back and he was shocked to still find the large yet young country still looking at him, continuing his story.

Tapping the edge of the cup in front of himself he gave a small smile, hoping he would understand that it was the only thank you that he would receive from the older nation. It didn't think it possible, yet his smile seemed to grow brighter and his exuberance heightened. He turned his attention to the pasta loving Italian that had skipped into their group and England turned attention forward only to now finding France and Canada looking at him with a pair of matching expressions across their faces. A scowl immediately covering his face as France chuckled with no doubt lewd intent as he leaned suggestively onto the table straightening the sleeves of a ridiculous lilac suit. His partner in crime, well that statement may be incorrect for Canada was the last member of the group to ever be a criminal, however wore an identical suit to that of his brother minus the bomber jacket and sent a smile understanding smile in my direction. Surprisingly it was this smile that bothered him more than France, That understanding, it was unnerving what did he understand, nothing. Yet despite this he smiled back slightly, he still held brotherly love for the Canadian boy and was overjoyed when he came to visit. His mind was elsewhere until the sound of Germany shouting broke his revere, which either meant that the meeting was about to begin or Italy had gotten his head stuck in something once again. Holding back the heavy sigh that threatened to break his composure France took his official seat beside the grumpy island nation signifying that the meeting was indeed about to start. Taking a sip he tried to hold back a grimace at the taste, bagged tea really was not his thing.

Looking up with anticipation as he felt eyes trained upon him only to meet his gaze once more, looking away another sip was taken from the concoction. Yep, it was gross, well compared to the loose tea at home but in retrospect it was quiet alright and really, it was the thought that counted. Intensely the blonde focused on the inside of the cup as he watched the tea diffuse into the water darkening it. Shifting in the wooden chair he only dared to look up once he heard that loud voice. He looked up listening for America's first idea as he took center stage, ready to shoot it down, as had become custom, a smirk lifting the right side of his mouth.

What hurts the most was being so close  
And havin' so much to say  
And watchin' you walk away  
And never knowin' what could've been  
And not seein' that lovin' you  
Is what I was trying to do, oh

The sound of many men, American men stepped forward raising guns to the ready as a leader yelled for them to Ready and Aim. Yet neither of the nation's paid heed to the humans about them. One nation grasping at straws for what had once been while the other ran for an unknown future in leaps and bounds. The rain continued to poor as not resolve but something faltered inside America and that look of disbelief shone through once again his eyes training on the end of the bayonet. He looked up quickly as the weapon was suddenly lowered from his face. Turmoil, pain, betrayal and hurt crossed the adjacent individuals face as he lowered his weapon, stopping his assault. "There is no way I can shoot you. I can't" at that the weapon slipped from dirtied hands and fell into the mud to join its counterpart. At this, a once ruling nation of no regret, no hold backs dropped to his knees clutching at his face as tears poured from his tears like cup filled past its brim. "Why? Dammit! WHY!" he cried body wracked with grief and distraught. Utter despair, loneliness filled his very being "It's not fair!"

For a moment the new nation that stood before him merely answered him with almost stunned, almost sad silence as he stared down at the sobbing man at his feet. Emotions, too many emotions to discern one from another flashed through his eyes. Windows to the soul, eyes are referred to and if that was the case then this boy's soul was in the midst of a storm. "You know why" he said quietly, finally responding.

"aghh" he tossed his arm over his face as consciousness yanked him from the nightmare. A hand pulled his arm away from his face only to push away his bangs that stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"You're having that dream again" the other occupant in his bed crouched over him a look of worry inside of sleep laden eyes. "Do you want me to get you some tea or something?"

"Ugh no thank you" he muttered as he became more aware of his surroundings. Ah yes, he was at the other's house this time, not his own. "Knowing you, all you have are those atrocious tea bags like the one you gave me at the meeting"

"Hey!" he pouted crossing his arms "that was all they had! Plus that was months ago! Almost a year ago to be specific! I've bought your weird loose tea and have been keeping it here for a while" puffing up with indignation the elder couldn't help but chuckle.

"And how was I supposed to know, I have never stayed here before and you have never mentioned such a thing" he sighed "Well no thank you just lie back down, I will surely drift back off again soon. He felt the bed sink back down as the younger nation lay back down beside him.

"You never have come to my house before, we always had to meet at your house" he huffed and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders his eyes brightening "Oy, England?"

"Yes America?"

"Will you tell me a story?...Like you used to?"

"….I…" Emerald eyes closed yet only to reopen "There once was a fairy…"

What hurts the most was being so close  
And havin' so much to say  
And watchin' you walk away  
And never knowin' what could've been  
And not seein' that lovin' you  
Is what I was trying to do, oh

"Let's go home" he smiled. Offering his hand down he watched as the little boy, the boy who had once been his little brother look up at him in surprise. A small breeze skipped through the road that pair was on and England couldn't help the smiles growth as it spread even further across his face as he looked down at the boy. His little brother, oh how he loved him, this little boy was his reason to continue fighting, the reason that he didn't let the pirate part of him take over control, that the ruthlessness of his ever growing country didn't swallow him whole. This boy, was the love of his life and he hoped that America held even a sliver of such feelings for him as well. The look of shock that covered the younger's face was wiped away and covered by something much more beautiful, a smile full of laughter. Quickly America's reached up placing his small hand inside of his larger one.

Without warning the sun was suddenly replaced with shrieking rain once more as the horrible scene decided that it was time to finish. Once again the older nation was on his knees in front of the younger, sobbing.

"What happened" America whispered staring at the top of his blond hair soaked by the rain. As almost if Mother Nature was pitying the island nation, using her own tears to mask his. "I remember when you were great" he breathed unable to look away from the torn nation.

"England!" he blinked, once again being awoken from that dream.

"America" he sighed looking up into an all too familiar face as his heart throbbed painfully.

"England, I'm right here" America touched his cheek as he leaned over him a sigh escaping from him "You were having that dream again weren't you?" he murmured. Concern filled eyes of true blue as they gazed down at him. His expression was unpleasant and if a little bit upset as he sighed once more.

"Yes" he responded and chuckled bitterly "It actually finished this time before I was awoken"

"I was hoping that dream would no longer be happening now" he murmured looking at the pillow behind England's head "Especially once I explained everything"

"America-"

"You said it was over though right!?" the nation that was so proud of its freedom interrupted his gaze intense as he leaned forward, silken sheets sliding off his naked back to pool about hips clothed in pajama pants of cotton, of course decorated in American flags.

"Ah, yes" he said slowly.

"Good" America said firmly and the island stared at him "If it's over then that means that it will never have to start again. You won't have to deal with it anymore" he pressed his forehead against his with slight pressure a smile stealing away any seriousness on his face. "Okay?"

Smiling slightly in response mildly surprised at the other male's gusto, he nodded "Aye, Okay"

That's what I was trying to do, ooh

"England come on" America laughed loudly a large hand wrapped around a small wrist and yanked the smaller being down the hall. The American's servants did not work on the weekend so they were alone. No one to chide them running down the hall in their outerwear. At least if that was something they did, America was never told that he couldn't do something, the only one who did such a thing was England.

"Goodness America! Let me take my coat and shoes off at least!" England protested trying in vain to pull away from the American. They ran up the only flight of stairs in the house in such a haphazard manner, America's feet pounding harsh against the carpeted floorboards that England was worried that some of the paintings would be knocked off the wall.

"Ah England I'll take it off for you" he winked only laughing harder as the other blushed bright red the scowl replaced with an embarrassed yet eager grimace. The door of America's bedroom banged against the wall as he whipped around falling backwards onto the large messy king sized mattress yanking England with him. The room was covered in so much American's paraphernalia and statues of all sizes of eagles that it really was much too much for one's eyes to take in all at once. And at the speed he was being dragged, for just a moment his entire world was made of red, white and blue which was ironic, for in a sense that really was what his world was made up of. The once empire swore that for a few seconds he was airborne before he toppled onto the boys chest. He stared into bright eyes a myriad of flashbacks fluttering through his mind. Ah yes, he thought to himself. I was trying to love you.

"Eh! America!" he gasped as he was suddenly flipped to the mattress the boy hovering above him grinning so wide his eyes were squeezed shut behind his frames. It was here in these moments that just for a second he could see the little boy that had been the love of his life. Oh yes, he was definitely the love of his life, except for the fact that the love had changed. Changed from one that was of familial and protection to one of the burning love that lover's shared. Ah yes, loving you was what I was trying to do. He smiled as dry lips pressed against his own and his eyes closed as well as pleasure hummed through his system. Heated movements were followed as outerwear slid to the floor unceremoniously, followed by clothes that were to remain on in public at all times. Hands that no longer had to explore slid over memorized skin, contours, shapes, dips. Lips that pressed together in earnest were shaped in smiles that were coated with endearment and emotion. England breathed deeply as they finally parted for breath pressing his forehead to the others, noses brushing, breaths mingling, bodies humming and hearts soaring. But I'm no longer trying to love you. No, I am loving you now.


End file.
